Radiant Violet Change
by Existential Insanity
Summary: Taylor doesn't get powers from being trapped in her locker. Still, the very Stars themselves say she is Fated, Destined, to have the power to change the way things will End.
1. 0-1 One-Handed Maiden

_A/N:_So this is the very start of what I've been working on and has been consuming my creativity. I hope you all enjoy it.

Oh, and I don't own or make money off of Worm or any product belonging to White Wolf

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_There once was a maiden..._

Taylor Hebert had simply been existing, and it wasn't a very pleasant existence, ever since Taylor's childhood had been cut short with the death of her mother. Since Emma had... stopped being her friend. Since Emma had become Sophia's friend. Since Emma had betrayed Taylor's confidence and aired secrets told only to friends close enough to be family.

It wasn't a good existence, it was actually quite pitiful, but was something she could endure.

But her current moment of existence was actually torturous, cruel, and disgusting.

When she had been little, she had always been referred to as 'Annette's daughter,' by everyone who knew both of her parents. She looked like a mini-Annette. She walked, talked, and moved like a mini-Annette. Taylor even loved the same things Annette did, so much so that Taylor proclaimed, like many young girls, that she wanted to marry her daddy.

If Annette hadn't been married to Danny, people might have thought that Taylor had been born of parthenogenesis.

But she was also Daniel Hebert's daughter. And Daniel Hebert, smaller than many of his compatriots, was a dockworker. Amongst his co-workers and before his promotion, Daniel Hebert was famous amongst his co-workers for his drive to see a job done, a job done well, and his temper.

More than once, early in their relationship, did Annette have to patch Danny up after he got into a fight (and won) against several obnoxious dockworkers.

Taylor, when she was very small, got into a violent fight to protect a picked on Emma and got read the riot act by her mother. But it was the complex look and soft conversation with her father after that Taylor buried her temper.

But here, in this metal coffin full of filth, did the temper unearth itself. The time of 'peace,' 'ignoring her bullies' and 'passive-resistance' was over.

She was done sobbing, she was done pleading, she was done scrambling at the door. She wanted out, and. She. Would. Have. It.

A primal scream of rage tore from her throat as she did her level best to punch the door out.

_...who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand._

Her anger fueled her body as she twisted, driving her fist into the metal. Quickly enough, she was bleeding from her knuckles. Pain lanced up her arm, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the cracks of her knuckles breaking.

_She did not stop, though cracks spread through her bones._

Every indignity that Emma, Sophia, and Madison had subjected her to before this flashed in her mind's red vision. When she was called such petty things as 'ugly' or 'stupid' despite neither being true. When her academic scores were sabotaged, with destroyed homework and projects. When her mother's flute had been stolen, her last non-photographical piece of her mother. When she was bullied at home through emails.

When she was shoved into a locker full of putrid used hygienic products.

There were more cracks from her hand as her metacarpals broke. The screams that tore from her throat were full of pain as much as they were full of rage at this time.

_She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes._

Then there was the teachers. They could not possibly be as stupid and blind as to not notice the bullying. Mrs. Knott offered kind words but would ignore when Taylor was shoved and pushed. Mr. Gladly, who tried so hard to be 'cool,' ignored the cruel words, destroyed assignments, and 'accidents' that led to ruining Taylor's things.

And the other students, how could none of them say nothing? Taylor, in her darkest moments, wondered where the skinheads were. One of her tormentors was black. And she was a 'poor, defenseless white girl.' Or for one of them to fake befriending her just so the Trio could take that away? Did no one have any morals but Taylor?

Morals wouldn't get her out of her, but her wrath would. She would break free. And though her hand bled freely now, blood splattering everywhere, she kept punching the now warped and dented door that was stubbornly holding to where the lock kept the door shut.

_She did not stop until she shattered the wall._

Finally the lock sheared off and a still raging Taylor tumbled to the floor, a quick squeal of surprise as she scrambled to her feet. She let loose a savage shout of victory, fists raised to the heavens in her triumph. Blood, fresh from her ruined hand, splashed onto the floor and splattered up onto the ceiling.

She decided, as she tumbled back to the ground, blood pounding in her ears and blackness creeping into her vision, she would fight back. Her mother's kindness had lead to her ruin, but it would be her father's rage that would lead to her survival.

_"Survival is Fury," she said._

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A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.


	2. 1-1 The End of the Beginning

A/N: I had meant to post this earlier, but my super awesome Beta(Jormungandr from over on SB)'s keyboard died. I hope you all enjoy and review!

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The barest strip of light played across Taylor's vision, sending the star-filled blackness scurrying. Her mouth worked, feeling as if someone had stuffed it full of stinky cotton balls. The foul stench was so bad she could _taste_ it... Just like in _there_.

_The Locker!_

Taylor's eyes snapped fully open and she jerked upright with a rough cry, her hand rocketing up to strike against the prison she was _sure _she was still stuck in, until-

"Hey, hey! Calm down, you're safe now! You're at the hospital."

Her chest heaved as her eyes, still wide, darted about the room. Various colored blobs 'decorated' a white room, and the smell of a potent disinfectant finally reached her nose, and broke through the remembered smells of rot and decay to fade from her mind. Her hand slowly drifted lower as she fought to quiet the thunder in her ears, before it finally fell to the sheets, seemingly boneless, with a soft thump.

"Here." A pastel colored person-blob offered what was presumably, from the slight sloshing, size, and shape, a cup with a straw. "Use this to rinse your mouth, and then we can get you some water to drink."

She reached out to take the cup, but the hand that she used to punch the locker felt funny. Weak. Taylor frowned as she took the cup, noticing a slight spasming in her fingers. A moment later, pure unadulterated nasty was spat out into another offered cup. She accepted the new cup of water, the water she was supposed to drink, with a scratchy 'thank you.'

It was a blessing; clean water soothed the burning and tamed the rawness of her throat. A second of pure bliss...

And then the moment was interrupted by the white-with-splashes-of-red person-blob.

"Ms. Hebert, I'm Panacea from New Wave. Your father, a Danny Hebert, gave me permission to heal you."

Panacea's eyes briefly flicked to a nearby medical chart as if to confirm something, and then back to Taylor. "You had more than just a few burgeoning infections in your bloodstream, and the hand you... used was pretty much ruined." She reached out and laid a comforting grip on Taylor's shoulder. "It'll still be tender for a day or two, and you're a little underweight so I didn't have all that much to work with, but you still shouldn't be feeling any of the effects for a good few hours." She gave Taylor a slight smile. "I left some of the _good_ painkillers alone. Now, I'm going to talk with your doctor, and then you'll be able to see your visitors, okay?"

Taylor nodded and said, "Yeah, thank you."

Thankfully, her throat no longer felt as if it were still scratched by shards of glass.

The "blob" -Panacea- gently patted Taylor's shoulder twice before moving to the door.

"You can come in, no-"

She was cut off by a blur that barely managed to not topple her. Staggering a little, Amy walked out , the other person-blobs trailing her.

"Taylor! Thank God you're alright!"

Danny Hebert wrapped his daughter up in a bone-crushing hug. Barely understandable words poured out of his mouth in a deluge, and Taylor scarcely caught the occasional "bad father" and "useless".

She couldn't stop the tears welling up in her eyes. He wasn't a _bad _dad: he'd actually gotten much better in the past month and a half, despite the last couple of years' distance between them.

"Dad- Dad! It isn't your fault," Taylor said into his shoulder as her arms came up and returned the hug. "I never told you about the bullies. I never told you about how Madison Clements bullied me; how Sophia Hess pushed me; how Emma betrayed me. I was a bad daughter."

"Taylor." Danny's hand came up and he ran his fingers through her hair, like he done when she'd been upset as a child. "You could have talked to me at any time. I just wish it'd never come to this."

Her grip around her father tightened, and Taylor muttered her response of 'Me too' into the crook of his neck.

For a few moments the two remained still, each enjoying the comfort of the hug, nothing else in their world but the two of them.

Then out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a slight movement behind her father. She craned her head up to get a better look.

Panacea's parting words rang through her mind: "visitors", not "visitor". As in _more than one_.

Suddenly hard eyes locked onto a well-dressed figure. With the black skirt and jacket blending together, only interrupted by a white shirt, olive skin, and black hair. Given how the legs were exposed, it _was _a skirt, and that meant it was very likely that who had come in with her father was a _woman_. And the skin tone didn't match Lacey, which meant the woman was a _stranger_.

"Dad," she said slowly, "who's here with you?"

Danny pulled back, and even with the world as blurry as it was for Taylor, she could make out as a nervous smile and quickly reddening cheeks.

He chuckled weakly, and Taylor's eyes narrowed.

"Your, uh, mother used to look just like that when she was sure she wasn't going to be happy with what I was about to say…"

Taylor's lips pushed themselves into a thin line.

"Am I going to like what you say?"

He shrugged a little. "Maybe?"

The sheer apprehension and worry in his voice almost made Taylor laugh.

She used to do this when she was younger - make him sweat.

But she was also sure that she wasn't going to like what was coming next, and so tried her best to maintain her composure.

"I'm Hannah Rogers." The blurry face gained a splash of white across the bottom: she was smiling.

Danny coughed into his hand, resisting the urge to let out a jittery laugh.

Taylor felt a spike of irritation: where were her _damn_ glasses?

"Um, Hannah and I are, uh, seeing each other?"

"I see… Or rather I _can't_ see, but you two are _dating_."

"Yes, we met when I was on the job, and I couldn't help but be drawn in by the man your father is," the woman, Hannah Rogers, answered. "Very articulate, very intelligent, and very handsome. I'm surprised that he hadn't found another woman earlier."

"Another woman," came Taylor's placid reply, yet there was a subtle edge to it that caused Danny to tense.

Taylor gripped her bed rails, her knuckles going white. "My mother was_ not_ some _skank _that could be replaced by just some random '_another woman_'."

"Taylor!" Danny said, shocked at her vehemence.

There was creaking from where the rails attached to the bed as her sharp gaze snapped to her father.

"No! I thought it was just some mid-life crisis! This working out, spending time together! But no! You started doing that because you _FOUND A REPLACEMENT FOR MOM_!" Her hand flew off the railing and jabbed at him. "You wanted to impress her, not be better for me! I'm your daughter - _your daughter_! What's going to happen next?" Taylor sent both of her hands wildly into the air above her head. "Are you going to find some freckle-faced blonde girl with green eyes to replace me?"

And with her last question, her tender hand came crashing down, smacking the railing with a meaty thwack, eliciting a yelp of pain. She closed her eyes, grit her teeth, and cradled her hurting appendage, breathing in and out while counting down from five-to-one.

Breathe in; breathe out.

Her father mimicked her breathing, his hands now shaking from something other than nerves.

Hannah's smile, to someone who could see, had grown visibly strained, and there was a glimmer of hurt in her eyes.

A few tense moments passed in silence.

And then Danny finally opened his eyes and let out a weak chuckle.

"'Freckle-faced blonde girl with green eyes?' A little specific there, Kiddo. Anything I should know about?"

Taylor snorted in response, a reluctant grin tugging at her lips.

"I- I was just throwing words at you. I'm sorry, its been a rough while. I'm sure you-" Taylor turned to the Hannah Rogers-blob "-aren't just some 'another woman'." She hesitated for a moment, internal-conflict clear on her face. "And Dad's been happier since, I assume, you two began seeing each other. So, I'll give you a chance."

Hannah let out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Taylor set her mouth in a grim line and looked directly where she assumed Hannah's eyes were. "But if you hurt him, and I don't care if it'll kill me: I'll get you back for it."

The way Danny's posture changed, you could tell he was proud of his little girl shooting a look Hannah's way. Though Hannah was obviously expecting some form of admonishment, to come from Danny.

"What?" came his confused reply to Hannah's look. "That's my girl."

She arched an eyebrow, and Danny wilted, turning back to Taylor.

"No, bad Taylor," he scolded her in the most flattest and mechanical voice he could muster. "Bad."

Giggles escaped both Taylor and Hannah.

"I also find him witty and very funny," Hannah told Taylor, giving her a sly smile.

"Mom used to say that if he hadn't told a joke that sent her into a tearful laughing fit she wouldn't have given him the time of day." Taylor shook her head. "I never found out what that joke was though. It was always-"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

Taylor couldn't help but pout a little. "I'm older now, Dad!"

"Not-"

"-Older enough. I know, I know…"

A somewhat comfortable silence reigned for a moment.

"What're we going to do now, Dad?" Taylor said softly. "I don't want to go back there: I shouldn't have to. It's not like the faculty did anything when they watched it happen, so this probably won't change anything."

Danny jumped to his feet, his face flushing a vivid red.

"_What?_"

Danny puffed himself up and began to walk towards the door, but he stopped mid-step, pivoting back to his daughter.

"I'll figure something out, Kiddo. Maybe Calrendon, since the waiting list for Arcadia is so long. And I don't think we can afford Immaculata, even with the scholarships you qualify for."

"If they hadn't been targeting my grades too," Taylor answered quietly, focusing on her hands, now placed in her lap, "we could have."

"I can certainly help there," Hannah cut in, smiling a little, "I'm a substitute teacher for Arcadia, when the PRT doesn't need me," her eyes casually flickering between Danny and Taylor. "I can call a few people and pull a few favors. I could get the ball rolling right now?"

"Taylor?"

Her dad's tone told her he was fishing for permission: he trusted Hannah enough to help them.

"Sure, please. And thank you." Taylor nodded her assent to Hannah.

"It's no problem Taylor." Hannah's smile grew wider, before the woman began pulling a phone out of her pocket and heading towards the door. "I'll be back in a moment."

Before the door closed, Taylor heard Hannah confirming to a 'Colin' that it was indeed her, and that she "needed a favor". Her father sat back down on the edge of Taylor's bed, and a peaceful, comfortable silence fell.

Taylor gained a sly look in her eye, and a devious smile graced her face.

"Hey Dad, you know what I could really use? Besides my glasses?"

Danny smacked his forehead with a groan.

"Oh, Taylor, I'm sorry! I got here in a rush after they called me at work and didn't stop by the house for anything. I think they sent your glasses to be decontaminated."

"That's alright. But what I could really use, right now, is an Awesomely-Alliterative-Supremely Superlative-Doting-Daddy-Darling-Daughter-Happy-Hug. I haven't gotten one of those since I got the Chicken Pox when I was seven."

A good natured chuckle left her father and they embraced again, this time gently squeezing one another and each wiggling to get closer and more comfortable. It was good, Taylor decided, to have her dad back; to have someone, _anyone_, comfort her like this once again.

Finally, they both pulled away.

"So, how'd you and Hannah meet?"

The Hebert Patriarch was close enough that Taylor could make out his facial expressions, and his face lit up a little.

"Hannah works as a consultant for the PRT, helping to develop programs that encourage Rogues, smooth things over with Independent Heroes, developing training programs for the Wards, and cut down on parahuman gang membership. There was recently a big bust of Uber and Leet's henchmen, I'm sad to say that a lot of them were former Dockworkers, and admitted so when questioned.

"So, Hannah came down with a couple of other PRT agents, and they went to talk to some of my co-workers while she talked with me. We talked business for a while, but-" here his cheeks gained a charming shade of pink "-she sorta drew me into telling jokes and stories about Brockton Bay before the strike and the Boat Graveyard. The 'Bad Old Days.' And then she asked me out to some coffee or a lunch date, as to not keep me from work or from spending time with you. I accepted."

"And then I found you making muscles in front of a mirror, sucking in your stomach," Taylor cut in with a smile and Danny's blush deepened.

"You saw that?"

Taylor nodded, her grin growing wider. Danny sighed, but nodded.

"Yeah, that was the day after our first lunch date. It went really well, and, well, your mother always _appreciated _it when I stayed fit."

Taylor's disgusted face at his wagging eyebrows sent Danny into a full-blown belly laugh. His daughter soon joined in guffawing and snorting a little.

"I was planning on introducing the two of you this week, actually. I was going to tell you about her, and then maybe get the three of us together for lunch or something on Saturday, down on the Boardwalk."

At that, Taylor frowned. She had noticed the bills tucked under the phone, where they were supposedly 'hidden'.

"How could we have afforded that?" she said slowly.

Danny gifted his daughter with a wide-smile.

"The first part of Hannah's plan and my plan for the Ferry was approved by the PRT and by the City. The Dockworkers will have more steady employment in the clean up, reconstruction, maintenance, and operation of the Ferry than we've had in eight years."

This- this was huge! It'd been her father's dream for years to get the City Ferry back up and running. It would still have to go around the Boat Graveyard, but if the math all worked out, and she was sure it did as she had done a few 'Ferry Restoration' papers and projects for school. There was no doubt that this would be great for Brockton Bay's revenue, opening up more routes for people to get to their work-places and slashing their travel times overall.

And since the Union would have work, the workers were less likely to join gangs, which should drive down some of the crime-rates.

And it had been Hannah to move her father's efforts along. And gotten him to pull himself together. And gotten him to be less distant: he'd been more respectful of her boundaries, and less completely unaware that they even existed.

Begrudgingly,she had to admit that Hannah was already doing good things for her family.

"Alright, then. Like I told her, she makes you happy, so I'll give her a chance." Taylor's tone was somewhat defeated yet petulant. "But that's it: a _chance_. She screws up, and I'll get her."

Danny ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I'm glad to see you with some more life in you, Kiddo." He paused, biting his lip. And then he asked tentatively, "What, ah, what happened in there?"

Her face grew dark, and Danny's eyes widened.

"I got angry," she bit out. "I'm done being bullied, Dad. Its over, even if I have to break those bitches' noses every time I see them until they'll get it."

Danny shifted uncomfortably, the same complex look that had shut down Taylor's temper years ago appeared on Danny's face. "Taylor… You should really keep a hold of your temper."

Her temper that had caused Taylor's indignant rage at Emma being picked on for her hair color and sex -as childish as the taunts were, Taylor understood from listening to her mother's rants against "the Patriarchy", what those slimy snotty, boys were doing- to manifest as a fight that ended with the bullies getting bloodied noses and with Taylor gaining a friend.

Her temper that got Taylor _out_ of that locker.

Taylor shook her head. "No, Dad. I realized in that filth that sometimes you_ have _to fight back, because sometimes words and having the moral high ground _aren't enough_."

Danny was silent for a few moments. "And_ Emma_ shoved you in there? I thought you two were friends?"

Taylor snorted in derision."Emphasis on '_were_', Dad. I came back from camp and it was like she was a whole new person: she even had a new best friend in Sophia. And along with Madison, those three have been my primary bullies." She smacked her lap lightly in irritation. "And no matter what I did, no matter how many witnesses there were, even the teachers, they got away with it. I'm actually pretty sure Sophia was the one who pushed me in there, she was always the most physical, but it was probably Emma's brainchild. That and when…" Taylor bit her lip, and looked away from her father. "when they stole Mom's flute from my locker."

"Annette's flute," Danny whispered. "Why didn't you tell me then?"

Taylor wrung her hands, despite the pain.

"I was afraid you'd get mad at me for letting it get stolen," she mumbled, keeping her eyes averted.

Danny gently grabbed Taylor by one of her shoulders and cupped her chin, guiding her to look him in the eyes.

"Oh, Taylor," he said sadly, pulling her in for another hug, "At the end of the day; its just a damn piece of metal. I wouldn't have been mad at all."

He pulled away and gave her a sad smile. "I remember you being so proud of yourself at being able to play it, even with a few off-key notes. I did wonder why you stopped practicing, and I should've asked you about it. I've been a bad dad."

Taylor pulled her father back into the hug. "I should have told you about it. I was a worse daughter than you were a dad."

"Never, Kiddo," Danny said firmly, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "You've always been and will always be the Little Owl: curious, wise beyond your years, and sharp as a tack."

The was a knock on the door that made the both of them jump, and Hannah's voice, calm and collected, called out, asking for permission to enter. When it was given, she came in, with what Taylor assumed was a smile.

"Good news! Taylor can start at Arcadia in two weeks, so long as all the paperwork gets done in time."

Taylor shot her a wide, grateful smile. "Thank you."

"How about I take you shopping before you start school again? Most of your stuff was ruined in there, and it'll give us a chance to talk and get to know one another?"

"That-" Taylor thought for a moment, "-sounds reasonable. I could use a new backpack and some more notebooks."

"And some clothes," Hannah said decisively. At Taylor's questioning look, she elaborated. "I found they did me a lot of good when I first came to America. New clothes can make you feel like a new person. It should do you some good to feel like you look good."

Her mouth worked for a moment, trying to find a way to get out of clothes shopping... except that she really _did_ need some new clothes.

After all, the 'Terrible Trio' and their lackeys had ruined more than just one of her outfits.

"Alright, fine. But only if we can visit the bookstore."

Taylor was fishing for new reading materials, and to see when the woman would become unwilling to buy stuff.

"Not a problem!" Hannah answered brightly. "There was a new nutrition cookbook that came out a little while ago that I've been meaning to pick up."

Oh, Hannah was good at this; at dealing with teenagers. Taylor supposed it came from being a substitute teacher, working for the PRT, and helping out with with the Wards.

"Danny, I have a lawyer friend who is willing to take this case pro-bono: He'll be here shortly to talk about your civil options and possibly pressing criminal charges." Hannah's face fell into a scowl. "I also expect the school district's lawyers to show up soon. I do know that the Police will be by within the next hour to take Taylor's statements."

She gave them both another smile.

"So, why don't we take the time to get to know each other a bit better?"

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Review? Plea?


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